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He looks at me, searching my face, and while I have no idea what he’s looking for, he seems to find what he needs, and something eases in his strained face a bit. “Just…swear you won’t say anything to Aly. I need to figure out how to tell her.”
My heart races and my ears ring, wondering if I’m about to hear the confession I’ve been dreaming of. While anxious and guilty parts of me flare, I can’t help myself and I nod anyway.
He sighs again and looks down at the table, running a fingertip through the ring of condensation his glass had left behind. “I went to the doctor today.”
Suddenly my heart is no longer racing, it’s stopped dead in my chest and my blood has turned to ice. Those words can’t mean anything good, and immediately I feel sick. “Is something wrong? What happened?” I demand.
He hears the panic in my voice and looks at me. “I’m fine, I’m fine, it’s not like that,” he says quickly.
I let out a breath of relief. “Fuck, don’t scare me like that,” I complain.
“Sorry, it’s just…ok, so Aly and I have talked about it and we’re both in agreement that we want a really big family together, right?”
I nod, confused.
“So, to be honest, we’ve kind of been trying already,” he admits, “I haven’t bought condoms in like a year and a half. But as you can clearly see from the lack of either a baby bump or an actual infant, we haven’t been successful.”
I continue to listen, still not quite sure where this is going, and trying to tamp down my own weird, jealous feelings. Our server returns and places our drinks in front of us, and Max takes a slow sip before continuing to speak.
“I’ve known for a while deep down that it’s because of me-”
“You can’t know that,” I interrupt him.
He gives me a ‘don’t be an idiot’ look. “Aly’s one of seven siblings, Forrest, I don’t exactly think there are fertility issues on her end.”
“You don’t know that for sure,” I argue again, “There could be some issue you don’t know about-”
“Forrest, I’m the fucking problem, that’s what I’m telling you,” Max snaps, banging his glass down on the table, “I basically got told by a doctor today that my chances of knocking up my fiancée are one in a fucking million, that I’m never going to be able to give her the family she wants.”
His voice hitches a little on the last word and he clenches his jaw. His eyes are glassy with unshed tears, a sight that feels like a crack in my heart.
“I’m sorry, Max,” I tell him quietly, unsure of what else I can say.
“She’s gonna fucking leave me,” he sighs.
“What?” I laugh in disbelief, “You’re crazy, why would you think that?”
“Why wouldn’t I? She wants a family, and I’m not the man who can do that for her, why would she stay?”
“Because there are other ways to start a family,” I tell him, “Maybe there’s some kind of insemination procedure or something. Or you guys could always adopt.”
“All of that shit takes years, though, and hundreds of thousands of dollars,” he takes another drink.
“What about like a sperm donor or something?” I offer, “That seems like that would be cheaper, I mean, how much could it really cost to get a guy to jerk it?”
Max grimaces. “It’s an option, I guess, but I can’t say I’m particularly in love with the idea of my wife getting knocked up by a total stranger, you know?”
I can understand where he’s coming from. A thought passes through my brain and flies out of my mouth before I can stop it.
“Would it be weirder if it wasn’t a stranger?” I blurt.
He looks at me. “Huh?”
“Would it be less weird if it were someone you knew?” I ask him, the rest of my brain catching up and registering what I’m really trying to ask.
“Maybe? I guess I don’t know exactly what you mean,” he says.
“What if-” my voice fails me and I take a swig of beer before attempting again, “What if I helped you guys out?” I hedged.
